War is Reborn
by Fringie Jester
Summary: Spoilers for season 4! A quick drabble/one-shot about Henry's decision to work with the new villain in town.


**War is Reborn**

 **A/N:** A friend of mine asked me to write a drabble of Henry struggling with the decision to retake the mantle and I was kind of proud of how it turned out so I decided that I wanted to post it here too.

It was dark in the room when Henry's bright green eyes fluttered open once more, to answer the call of the Mantle of War. A mantle that was _rightfully_ his to wear after _everything_ that he had been through. To Henry, the call sounded vaguely similar to the high-pitched wailing of sirens and the loud steady drum beats as soldiers were marched into battle, calling out for him to rejoin the mantle in war… it almost felt as though it were a call for him to come back _**home**_. His soul was seemingly always in a constant state of turmoil, always seeking out chaos and destruction (a permanent side-effect of having one's soul primed by War), something that was only amplified even more by his hellish past. Henry was only ever at peace, if there be such a thing, when he finally gave into the pounding and gave it what it _wanted_ … what it _desired_ the most from his own two hands.

Henry had once believed that he had originally been chosen for the job because he was seen as something that was _special_ in Moloch's eyes and that all of his suffering had finally meant _something_. But he remembered his master's harsh words that he had dealt to him…

" _There were Horsemen before you, there will be Horsemen after. Be grateful for the chance to sacrifice yourself for my glory."_

When the wayward warlock within him, Jeremy, finally gathered enough courage to act on his own to kill his pseudo- father by the four white trees that very same night with the sword of Methuselah the mantle had been stripped away from his core, taking a small piece of his soul along with it, and now the mantle was nearby once more, he could feel it so _very_ strongly, pounding away in his ears. It was so close that he could practically smell it, as if it were standing there in the room right in front of him. But where was it and how had it been able to call out to him? The dark room that Henry was currently standing in bore little to no resemblance to that of Frederick's Manor or the old Town Hall where he last remembered himself being before he died… He had died, hadn't he?

His eyes finally landed on one thing that _looked_ familiar to him and that was a person that he knew as Miss Jennifer Mills. Ah, yes, someone very familiar to him indeed. And then, suddenly, as if a light had just been turned on (even though the room was still covered in a blanket of darkness), Henry suddenly became even more aware of his surroundings. The glass jar next to him lay shattered in at least a hundred different pieces all over the desk and scattered out onto the floor and then it dawned on him… the court room, yes, he did remember seeing his father there but he had thought it to be a dream of some kind. Was it real? It must have been if he was alive and seeing Jennifer again.

Henry spent the next several very long minutes spinning and weaving an intricate tale in an attempt to convince her and the others that he had failed to recognize, that he wasn't the same Henry that Jennifer once knew before all of this and that he had been completely reborn anew and had been formed from all of his father's _**better**_ memories of him rather than the bad ones… which was only partially true. He had been carved from his father's memories of him, however, that also included the brunt of his anger and hatred towards the man as well. He had truly left his own mark upon Ichabod's own soul. Henry really had been reborn the way that Ichabod had remembered him. Part of him even hated that, knowing that his father had given birth to his being a second time, but he was alive and well now… and all he had to do was regain his title now… but how?

In the end, Jenny didn't believe his story and even Henry could hardly blame her for it. Henry, however, could be patient and he knew that he could also play this game and keep up this little charade for far longer than they could possibly ever imagine. He would only need to sit and wait and watch for the opportunity to make his next move, but for now, he knew that he must play his part just as he had before when he first met his father and pretended to be the nice old helpful Sin Eater.

Henry was eventually rescued by a demon who called himself Jobe, who then explained to him that he had only been able to find him because of his soul. Ichabod had somehow lost the mantle and they were in need of another host for it… one whose soul had already been primed by the mantle itself and Henry almost too eagerly accepted the demon's offer, especially if accepting the deal got him out of his torturous prison that he had been hastily stowed away in.

Jobe then took Henry to see a man named Dreyfuss, who Henry almost immediately took a disliking to, but he knew that he must behave himself around this pompous idiot in order to obtain what he so desperately desired. Something that he had longed for since the day that he had lost it… all he needed to do now was to reach out and take hold of it. The mantle was more tempting for him to take than he could have ever possibly imagined, as if he were an addict in need of their next fix. Henry was far too weak to fight back against its call to war, drowning out the more reasonable part of his mind and making it sound as if it I were but a whisper to him now, telling him that taking the man's offer was a bad idea. This Dreyfuss fellow, he would be the new boss of him and he would have the same powers over him that Moloch had had once before. Henry had grown extremely wary of being the sheep being led to the slaughter and he had sworn that he would always be a wolf… or was he really? Had he really let himself believe that he could be the one who made all of his own decisions from that point forward?

Yet again, Moloch's cruel voice called out to him;

" _You_ _ **DO NOT**_ _plan… You_ _ **DO NOT**_ _think for yourself… You are a_ _ **SOLDIER**_ _… A soldier's duty is to_ _ **OBEY!**_ _"_

Henry knew that this could very well be the _only_ opportunity that he had to reclaim his mantle. _HIS!_ It was rightfully his and his alone. He deserved all of the power and all of the freedom that came along with it… but could he ever truly be free if he served a man like Dreyfuss? Now Henry started to feel the entirety of the weight of this decision bearing down on his own two old shoulders. Now that he could have it again, did he _truly_ want it? When the mantle had been stripped away from him, he had felt all of his two hundred and thirty-three years of his age and every ache and pain that had come along with it and this could potentially relieve him of some of that pain and threat of dying yet again.

"You know, Henry, you're the only one who came here of their own free will." Dreyfuss said with a smile. "Some of the others, they weren't so lucky, they were sort of forced into doing this for me. But not you. And that makes you special to me, Henry." Dreyfuss shifted the gun around in his grip as if to admire the weapon as he continued to speak. "What do you say, pal?" he asked, holding out his free hand to shake it and finalize the deal the two had made, which would allow him to be free to do as he saw fit and not to be a puppet like the others.

Henry bit his lower lip and peered down at the other's extended hand and tried to decide on whether or not he _should_ take it. He began to reason with himself. He could take the deal now and find a way to strike off on his own later, couldn't he? He wouldn't need to listen to Dreyfuss for an eternity, would he? He was bound to be easier to get rid of than the likes of Moloch, after all. Hesitantly, he nodded and then extended his own hand and gripped Dreyfuss' hand and the other's smile only seemed to grow wider.

"Good choice. You won't regret it. You and I are going to make a good team."

The truth of the matter was, he already _**DID**_ regret making the decision but the mantle held too much power and claim over his soul to deny him of it and he also knew that he would eventually come to regret it later If he didn't, at the very least, try to take this opportunity to regain the piece of him that had missing and a degree of freedom that came along with it.


End file.
